


You Are My Heart

by dear_reader



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, I was feeling fluffy, M/M, my first johnlock fic, slight angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-17
Updated: 2017-12-17
Packaged: 2019-02-16 05:49:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13047780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dear_reader/pseuds/dear_reader
Summary: “It is clear to me, John, that many people think I do not have a heart. They would, in fact, be wrong. The concept of love does not escape me. In fact, I am reminded of it every day. In every cup of tea, in every cab ride. Many live a life time unable to see their heart, but I John, am lucky enough to witness it every day. In the flesh. Across from me now…”





	You Are My Heart

**Author's Note:**

> Hello lovely people. Here are Sherlock and John being cute and fluffy. My first fic for this fandom, though I've been here forever. but I've recently rewatched the whole series and was feeling inspired. So enjoy, or don't, it's up to you :)

“I’d hug you right now, but you’re covered in evidence. And I also really don’t want to.”

“Evidence really is a nice euphemism for blood.”

“You’re totally missing the point. Do you know how pissed I am at you right now?”

Sherlock had the decency to lower his eyes before sniffing and daring to look up.

“Judging by the slight tremor in your left hand and your clenched fists, I’d say quite.”

John laughed - if you could call it that - and readjusted his stance, feeling frustration rise.

“Do you even - no, wait. How did this even happen? I left you for what, 2 hours?”

Sherlock ignored this and proceeded to towel off as much of the blood as he could, luckily he was wearing a dark shirt. Punching out a quick text to Lestrade, he swiftly slipped his phone back into his pocket and rounded on John once more.

“Well? Are you going to tell me?” John spoke again, each time seemingly more angry than the last.

“Fine! After you’d left the flat I received an anonymous tip, probably from one of my homeless network, that Hunter had made his way back to the abandoned building where he’d left his first victim. I was bored, and so, took a cab to the location, where upon my arrival I entered said building and found Hunter on the first floor, looming by the window. He proceeded to draw a gun, threaten me and tell me that if I were to make the Yard and the government forget about his dalliances, he’d leave and there would be no more crimes. And you can guess how the next bit goes.”

John sighed and rubbed his eyes, looking at the crime scene.

“I’m guessing you told him where to stick it and then…?”

“Then he proceeded to turn the gun on himself and here we are.”

Sherlock looked back to the body on the ground and if John wasn’t mistaken he thought he saw a brief look of remorse on Sherlock’s face. But it was gone as soon as it was there and he thought no more of it. 

John thought back to the string of murders that had been puzzling the Yard for the last week. Each body had been found in a derelict building with their throat slit and their fourth finger from their left hand, missing. Sherlock was quick to deduce that the man, Hunter, aged 31, had recently lost his partner when she was diagnosed with cancer of the lymph nodes, at the age of 28. Aggrieved, the lover had gone on a revenge-fuelled rampage, taking the lives of other young lovers. There did not seem to be much correlation between the two, but John had filled in that when someone you love is taken from you, grief sometimes overtakes you. 

John is broken out of his reverie when he hears footsteps coming up the stairs and into the room.

“Jesus. What happened here?”

Sherlock rolled his eyes and before he had the chance to say anything, John quickly jumped in, filling in the details for him.

“Right. Well you two get home and Sherlock, take a shower. We’ll call you into the Yard tomorrow.”

Sherlock silently grabbed his coat and pushed past Lestrade and his officers, making his way down the stairs. 

John looked at Lestrade, making eye contact and conveying his apologies for Sherlock’s behaviour. He simply returned a look that said, ‘I know.’

“Right. Well, thanks Greg. See you,”

With that, John made his way out of the building and into the cab that was waiting outside.

 

*****

The cab ride back to Baker Street was eerily quiet. Sherlock remained staring out of the window the entire ride and when John passed comment, he merely hummed in response. 

Once inside, Sherlock went straight to his room, closing the door firmly behind him. John sighed and made his way to the kitchen, sticking the kettle on and automatically taking out two mugs and preparing them both a cup of tea. 

John poured the boiling water into his mug, before setting the kettle aside and leaving Sherlock’s mug with just the tea bag in. 

Making his way to the sofa, he took his book off of Sherlock’s desk and began reading, the silence of the flat weighing heavily on him. 

He had read roughly 50 pages before he realised he had been reading the same sentence over and over again. He put the book down and finished the last of his tea. He’d known Sherlock to act like this when they’d first met, but he’d thought they’d gotten closer, the detective not shutting himself away so easily. 

His stream of thought was broken when he heard Sherlock’s door click open and caught the detective padding into the kitchen out of the corner of his eye. 

John watched as the detective stood, staring at the mug. He spoke up before he had chance to change his mind.

“The kettle’s just boiled. Thought you might like a cup, so I left one out for you.”

There was a moments paused before he heard Sherlock take in a sharp breath.

“Yes..thank you.”

He watched and waited whilst Sherlock poured the boiling water into his mug before making his way over to his chair and sitting down with an air of grace. 

The detective was wearing plaid pyjama pants and his silk dressing gown. And if John noticed the way that each article clung to his lean, tall figure, no one needed to know. 

Minutes passed like hours and John couldn’t handle the heavy silence that weighed over them both, so he spoke.

“Everything alright? You seem, I mean, earlier it seemed like -“

“Do you ever think you’ll get to the end of a sentence in one fluid motion?” Sherlock bit out. 

John placed his cup down and lowered his eyes. It was not the first time that Sherlock has responded in this way, but it didn’t mean he had to put up with it, especially if they’d been out on a case all day. He brushed his palms along his thighs and made to stand up. 

He was just about to go to his room when he heard Sherlock speak. 

“Forgive me, John. I did not mean to snap.”  
Was that…an apology?

Sherlock hardly ever registered that what he was doing was not good. 

John turned around to see Sherlock, mug raised to his mouth and eyes cast against his armchair. 

Taking a deep breath and deciding that now was as good a time as any, John approached the taller man and sat in said armchair across from him.

“It’s fine.”

“No. No it’s not fine. I shouldn’t treat you like that.”

John was growing more and more confused each time Sherlock spoke. What did he mean? Sherlock never acknowledged emotions, not like John did, so excuse him for being entirely dumbfounded. 

“Sherlock, are you alright? I mean, I appreciate the gesture but you don’t normally apologise for being an arse.” John laughed, trying to lift the atmosphere. 

Sherlock put his mug down then, raising his gaze upon John. 

“I fear I may have been affected by todays happenings more than I wish to let on.” 

John contemplated this before leaning forward.

“It’s okay to be upset by what happened. You witnessed a man take his own life, something which no one should have to see,”

Sherlock subtly winced, knowing that John was thinking back to the Fall.

“But you have to understand that what he did was his own decision. You could not have changed his mind. Not once he had made his choice.”

The air between them felt heavy, the atmosphere closing in around them. This was the first time John had been this close to Sherlock, sharing emotions and having him respond. He daren’t make a move for fear of ruining it. 

“It is not just that. The nature of his murders seems to be troubling me.”

“You mean - you mean, the young victims?”

“Hmm.”

A pause. 

“And why he enacted upon this path in the first place. It has left me thinking.”

Sherlock shifted then, locking eyes with John and attempting to convey everything he felt. 

“It appears that the prospect of losing one that is cherished and…loved, has left me feeling somewhat anxious.” 

This left John flushed and nervous. Sherlock loved no one. Well, except for family maybe, but that was a given, even for him. John was pained at the thought of losing Sherlock and wished that he would feel the same, just so that he would know how he felt. Could he mean..? No. Sherlock was married to his work. John was getting ahead of himself. He cleared his throat and wiped the sweat from his palms across his knees. 

“Anxious? How?”  
“With the nature of the life that one lives, one can expect danger at every corner.” 

John was unsure how to respond, so he sat there, in stunned silence. 

An age passed before Sherlock spoke up.

“It is clear to me, John, that many people think I do not have a heart. They would, in fact, be wrong. The concept of love does not escape me. In fact, I am reminded of it every day. In every cup of tea, in every cab ride. Many live a life time unable to see their heart, but I John, am lucky enough to witness it every day. In the flesh. Across from me now…” 

John swallowed. 

“You mean-“

“Yes. You are my heart, John Watson.”

Silence.

“I am aware that this may make things uncomfortable, given that you do not reciprocate the sentiment, but after today I felt that I needed to clear my mind.”

John swallowed. 

“Not return the sentiment? Sherlock…I’ve loved you since the day you asked me on our first case, you silly git. You are everything to me.”

Sherlock was stunned. He blinked. And blinked. Swallowed, then cleared his throat. 

“As are you to me, John.” 

A wide grin spread across John’s face and he moved forward, kneeling before Sherlock.

“I’ve already lost you once, I’m not losing you again.”

And with that, John reached up, cupping Sherlock’s cheek as they shared their first kiss, knowing there were many more to come.


End file.
